By Cold Design
by Cataclysmic
Summary: Captured by Death Eaters, held for weeks before finally being brought before the Dark Lord a broken and battered Harry Potter is sent into the past...to die.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

He supposed he couldn't expect anything pleasant to come of this; in fact he was almost sure it would be the opposite really, whatever was to come would undoubtedly be decidedly unpleasant.

At least he knew to expect the worst, Harry thought wryly

He watched in silence as the Dark Lord Voldemort lifted his wand and pointed it towards him. Nope he was pretty sure a Cheering Charm would not be forthcoming. A pity really, he could probably use one right about now.

Harry had been held captive by the Dark Lord's followers for the past several weeks, a fact which was hard to forget, given his body's protests. Despite being in his follower's custody for the past few weeks this was the first Harry had seen of Voldemort himself.

It took every ounce of will Harry had to lift his head; to watch what he assumed would be his death rush towards him.

Of course the effort it took to raise his head sent stars dancing before his eyes, interrupting what he heard of Voldemorts self-congratulatory speech, not that he was particularly interested in it anyway. It was probably best that the Dark Lord's gloating over his defeat was mostly lost in a sea of spinning stars. Well the speech was lost to him anyway; he probably had an avid audience hanging onto his every word in his flock of rabid Death Eaters.

Eventually his head cleared enough to catch some of what Voldemort was saying, something about "the irony...dead...even born" and "dead before...defeated me..." Harry could only reach one conclusion from this, though he was surprised he could actually think clearly enough to reach a conclusion; Voldemort was going to send him back in time.

To die.

Typical Voldemort really, wasting all that power to send him back in time just so that he could gloat that he had defeated Harry Potter murdered Harry Potter before the great Harry Potter even had a chance to defeat him. It had probably never even crossed his mind to go back in time himself to prevent Harry from defeating him in the first place. That just wasn't the way Voldemort worked, and anyway why would he bother, he was actually winning now, he had the advantage.

Voldemort shouted out a spell and within moments Harry was surrounded by a green and silver mist, which quickly and painfully penetrated his body.

He felt like he was being ripped apart.

With a painful soul-wrenching scream, Harry Potter disappeared.


	2. 1

Chapter 1:

Harry fell hard onto an unforgiving flat surface.

He was sure that he heard at least one of his bones crack when he hit what he assumed to be a floor of some kind.

He didn't know why he fell, or even why he was in any position to fall, his mind was too fuzzy at the moment to know much of anything.

It could have been worse though, he pondered absently, what he assumed to be a floor could have been made of concrete. Which would have been much, much worse. It was small comfort, but comfort nonetheless, from what he could tell he had fallen from a fair height.

He could hear shuffling all around him and he opened his eyes, only to have the colours surrounding him whirl in protest. If he had actually had anything in his stomach after weeks of Voldemorts followers questionable hospitality, well let's just say, it wouldn't be in his stomach any longer.

A dry wretch was the best he could manage under the circumstances; needless to say, it didn't help his situation any. He nearly choked on the horrible taste the action left in the back of his throat. Being incapacitated on his back unable to move much more then his head voluntarily was not helping matters either. No matter what he did he couldn't escape the ghastly tang that hung in his mouth.

He could hear someone speaking to him but he could not make out the words.

He could feel a hand on his face and fingers ghosting over his body.

Desperately he tried to calm his breathing and to forget about the horrible feeling in the back of his throat, and the taste of the air, and well it wasn't helping much at all he was still struggling to breathe at all.

Every time he inhaled or exhaled air he could feel a sharp point sticking into his lung. Broken ribs no doubt.

It was surprising really given all his injuries he had the will to live at all. He remembered when he was younger he had the flu in conjunction with fluid on his lungs, at the time he was so miserable he wished that he would just get on with it and die. Ultimately he had recovered, though the recovery time was significantly longer than normal due the Dursley's treatment, he had never forgotten however how he had felt during that time. This was different though, every nerve ending, every limb, every organ was screaming for him to give up, yet his mind was still going strong, still urging him to fight, to survive.

Opening his eyes once again he fought his exhaustion, starvation, injuries and general bad health in favour of trying to gat a good look at his surroundings.

Well the fact that the world was still spinning would have been somewhat comforting if he was actually spinning with it, Harry thought a little darkly as he tried to fight the sensation he now associated with opening his eyes. Gradually though he was able to make out his surroundings, well vaguely anyway.

There was a man in robes kneeling above him, poking and prodding at him with a wand, there were others, fuzzy outlines on the edge of his vision, all dressed in robes of some kind.

Wizards.

Small comfort considering just who sent him here, Voldemort was hardly likely to have sent him any place he would actually want to be, like say Hogwarts, where potential allies would surround him and he might actually have a chance of survival.

Though it was a positive sign that they hadn't shot the killing curse at him on sight.

Something the man, a medi-wizard he would hazard a guess, had done cleared his vision for a moment. Another positive sign that the medi-wizard seemed to be trying to heal him rather than speed the process along. They could do that, legally, in terminal cases, Madame Pomphrey had told him.

He had asked her on one of his many visits to the hospital wing, out of morbid curiosity. He knew that muggles did not allow euthanasia.

When the world stopped spinning he noticed he was surrounded by the magical world's version of aristocrats, dressed up to the nines in dress robes with what he assumed was incredibly expensive jewelry practically falling off both sexes, it was a grandiose display of opulence if he had ever seen one.

He only really noticed the jewelry because it was shiny, and looking up from the floor onto the sparkly jewelry made his head swirl again. He probably got a better look at the jewelry than faces or robes really.

But it was a welcome sight. He had landed in the middle of some kind of social gathering, and unless this was a private little Death Eater party he was most likely in luck. He knew that most supporters of Voldemort kept their loyalties very quiet until not long before his defeat. Which meant that even if this was the home of a Death Eater they could hardly leave a mysterious someone who turned up out of nowhere to die on the floor.

It would blow their cover.

With a final feeling of something that resembled triumph Harry gave into his body's protests, and fell unconscious.

It seemed like he might live to see another day after all.


	3. 2

AN: Sorry for the long wait, I am afraid people might be a bit disappointed with this chapter but never fear the next chapter will be more interesting I promise!!!

* * *

Chapter 2: Healing

"I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers;  
But time is still turning, they soon will be dry;"

* * *

It had taken a horribly excessive period of time in the opinion of the Head Healer of Escillion School of Magic, the known leader of medical schools in the entirety of magical Europe Dillon Lievens to stabilize the his mysterious patient.

His patient was of course a spontaneous visitor to the Snape Family ballroom who had in his humble opinion, extremely good luck to have arrived when he did. In the middle of an open social gathering, rather than any other time of the year. Generally the Snape Household was closed off during the year to the public with approved guests (other dark families) and pre-approved visits from important members of the Ministry being the only non-Snape's allowed on the property. Snape Manor like many of the old pureblood manors was generally unsociable to unexpected visitors and unapproved guests, to say the very least. It was not uncommon for people who accidentally, or purposefully, found their way onto these sorts of estates to never be seen or heard from again. But as the Ministry couldn't actually prove anything there was nothing that could be done about it. The old families of course were also afforded a great deal of protection from the Wizengamot.

The fact was that the boy was so extensively damaged that he was thankful for the fact he could still identify quickly that he actually was a boy. What had managed to shock Healer Lievens was the fact that the boy was nearly as bad off as he looked, and with the amount of blood around, that was extremely bad. What was shocking though was that injuries that involved extensive bleeding, such as this one usually looked a lot worse than they actually were. There was also the fact that his blood clotting charms, standard practice and usually extremely effective were not working as well as they should be, in fact nothing he had used on the lad so far had worked as well as it should. This had forced him to rely on muggle methods to slow and stop the blood flow of the most serious wounds, he had been forced to send several guests off to find sheets that could be torn up and used as bandages so that he could stabilize his patient enough to move off the ballroom floor and come up with better solutions to the problems his patient was having with his treatment.

Dillon barely managed to form a thought of what he wanted to do before he was halfway through performing it. Incantations flowed easily from his thoughts to his mouth to his hand and wand from years of practice and not once did his spells have no effect on his patient. Though none were working optimally either.

Through long years of experience Dillon had found he was able to spell cast, think and listen to his surroundings. Thus he was able to speculate about his patient and listen to the speculations of the guests.

He gathered from the wild speculation of the Snape family guests, of whom there were many that common opinion rested with an apparition accident or a misspelled portkey.

Healer Lievens, busy with his patient, didn't bothering correcting them or for that matter put an end to their inane chatter even if he was sorely tempted.

Knowing that the knowledge would only further fuel their speculations to more epic proportions he kept his silence. And decided not to mention the fact that the boy's injuries negated either possibility. They were too extensive for apparition with the charm having in built safeguards to prevent any bleeding or lacerations, and a misspelled portkey would have limited the damage to the stomach area. And even a misspelled portkey left evidence behind.

Normally an even-tempered man he tended to rule his ward with not one but two iron fists. He believed that silence was beneficial to the healing process and as a result silence not unlike that of a library was enforced. It was unfortunate that he could not enforce that rule now, but seeing as he was a guest and they were also guests he had no more right to be there than they did. Snape word was law in this house and he had no authority to contradict it and since no Snape had said contrary the guests would stay until they felt like leaving.

Dillon supposed it also helped that this gathering was, more, public than the usual Snape balls, which of course he would not ever have a chance at being invited to. The only reason he was here tonight was because the Minister of Magic's nephew Michael Jameson had announced his engagement to the eldest of the Snape daughters. He had overseen the Jameson's families' medical care for over fifty years and thus had a special relationship with the family long before Rufus became Minister.

Of course there were not as many guests at the party as were invited, the estate had a reputation and were not game enough to actually come, it probably helped that the Snape's didn't have much of a reputation for being social as well. But there were still a large number of guests attending, over three hundred, and most were talking about his patient.

In one of the few moments he spared to take a glance around the room he noticed that all activities had ceased in favor of gossiping about their mysterious visitor. Still, he was grateful that his sanity had been somewhat spared and there weren't as many guests attending as there should be.

Various Snape's he had observed were looking decidedly nervous, no doubt

Old Emeritus Snape was seen stalking in and out of the Ballroom testing the wards no doubt trying to find the hole in their security system that had allowed the boy through instead of making him instantaneously combust or some other horror thought up by generations of Snape's.

No doubt it was an exercise in futility anyway considering no one he suspected actually knew how the boy had made his way into the estate. But he could see why they were nervous. Despite the fact people were allowed on the estate tonight no one could actually travel directly into the estate and guests had to be ferried in from the outskirts of the property. For someone to appear directly on the property was, or rather, should have been impossible.

Healer Lievens did not find it surprising that he was able to think about what was going on around him while he was working on a patient. He had realized a long time ago you could not control your thoughts and as much as he thought his thoughts should be solely focused on his patient 100 of the time more often than not they weren't. The human mind is extremely complex and that it is possible to think and do several things at one time. Healing was his life profession and he had long since mastered his art, and thus he didn't feel the need to put as much thinking into his work as he had as an apprentice Healer.

Not surprisingly he was the only fully trained Healer in attendance tonight. The upper echelons of wizard society did not look highly upon Healers despite the fact they were amongst the most intelligent and most relied upon wizards and witches in their society. His patient was also extremely lucky that he had decided to attend that night, and had not in fact begged off as he had in fact intended to.

Being the only Healer at the party remotely worth his salt, and arguably in his mind better than the best Healers at St Mungo's his patient was extremely lucky to be in his care. Having taught most of the healing staff at St Mungo's at some point he wasn't entirely sure whose care the boy would be better off in, they had access to equipment he did not have that would be useful at the moment. He also had to take into account though that the teacher is usually more knowledgeable than his students…and he was finding this boy challenging.

For a little while there the boy had been drifting in and out of consciousness, which was quite surprising. Thankfully the sleeping and numbing charms he had placed on the lad seemed to be working better than the Healing charms and he had not woken as he removed the shards of glass from out of his patient's wrists and facial area. He wasn't entirely sure where the glass had come from but the wounds on the boy's wrist seemed to be healed partially with the shards still inside them.

Healer Lievens thought as he removed a shard of glass from his patient's wrist, that it was possible those were self-inflicted considering his patient had made no serious attempts to remove them. Where the glass had come from he wasn't sure, but he made sure to put them aside to study later in case the boy was in fact suicidal, if he could figure out where the boy got the glass from this time, if this was a first attempt he could make sure he would not be able to try the same way again in addition to other methods to keep the boy safe. The shard of glass had pierced an artery when he pulled it out and he was forced to tear his robe to help stem the bleeding while he tried to heal it. With limited success.

It was difficult to both hold the wound closed and heal at the same time but he managed it, he didn't dare ask for help just yet, he knew those few qualified would come to help once they had moved past their shock. He was amazed at how much work he had managed in such a short period of time.

It was with a heavy sigh though he realized how much more he would have to do.

* * *

AN: Initially this was the first section of a three section chapter, but I kept coming back to play with it so I thought I may as well post it and then it will be set in stone so to speak and I won't have an excuse to play with it anymore.

Anyway in the next chapter we shall see:

-A very large REVELATION

-A Fever

-A nervous healer and an imposing Head of Household

-Harry back in the land of the living and in top form verbally and mentally (which entirely depends on you're opinion.

Overall the next chapter you will begin to see the direction the story is to take.

Well that is if I'm nice!

* * *


	4. 3

**Chapter 4 : Bloody Identity.**

* * *

Healer Lievens found himself cornered as soon as he stepped out of the guest room, which was currently acting as his medical bay.

Emeritus Snape was quite imposing. The quiet head of the Snape family was not to be taken lightly by any means. Of course Dillon knew exactly what the man wanted, the boy awake and talking, and was only slightly perturbed that he would not be able to give the man that. Emeritus communicated his first question with a glance, pushing himself up off the wall he had been leaning on in wait.

"No, the boy is not awake." Healer Lievens answered, "He most likely will not be awake enough to be of any use to you for a few days at least."

"Is that your medical experience or your sensibilities talking Healer?" came the gruff reply.

Dillon held strong, the boy would not have an easy time of it when he woke.

"That is my medical opinion, sir." There was a pause and Dillon could practically feel his worth being measured in the eyes of the Snape Head.

"Very well."

He mustn't have been found lacking.

"Did you find any identifiers on the boy during your examination?"

"No sir, not even a wand, though the boy is obviously magical."

Emeritus grunted.

"Can find out through medical information?"

Dillon shrugged, "I can try, but I haven't got much to go on."

"See that you do, I will be along tomorrow to perform some spells of my own on the boy." Emeritus held up his hand to forestall the argument, "They will not interfere with your patient Healer, you may be present as they are performed."

Healer Lievens reluctantly nodded, it was not as though he could have stopped it anyway, so long as their spells did not interfere with the recovery he would not be able to intervene.

"Make sure he recovers Healer."

It was not Dillon's imagination that there was a definite hint in the old mans voice.

* * *

A timid boy of around nine knocked on the door to the guest room at around ten in the morning delivering a missive from Emeritus the Head of the Snape Family which informed him to be expecting a contingent to perform the spells promptly at eleven. He did not know what was meant by contingent but it must mean more than one and that was enough to make him uncomfortable.

Emeritus and company arrived precisely at eleven o'clock; with him were three other Snape's whose significance he did not know.

Emeritus nodded to one of the men who approached the bed. The man placed his hand on the boy's forehead and nodded. Before moving back to where the Head of the Family was standing.

"The boy has a Fate." Was all the man said before he made his way out of the room.

They seemed surprised.

After a minute Emeritus snapped at them.

"Well, get on with it!"

The next man made his way towards the bed, his hair was a mess and he obviously did not care much for personal hygiene.

"Legilimens"

The spell was difficult to do without eye contact, and with the patient unconscious he was sure they were not expecting much.

The man broke contact not long afterwards.

"The boy is an Occlumens, not particularly strong but his barriers are high enough that I can't get through while he is unconscious, maybe not without eye contact certainly not without doing permanent damage, even then there is no guarantee, when he is conscious again I should not have a problem."

Emeritus nodded, they were all surprised that the boy was an Occlumens, but it did prove that he had something to hide. As there was nothing else for the man to do he was dismissed and the final man who had made his way in with Emeritus approached the bed.

Emeritus crept closer with him, and Healer Lievens crept forward as well interested to see what the Head of the Household was so interested in.

"I take it that you did not find any medical information on the boy?" Emeritus asked.

"No sir, I could not find any magical medical record of the boy. "

"Leon here works at the Ministry, in the Magical Identification Department, he will find out who the boy is, his name at the least should the boy be sufficiently magical enough."

Healer Lievens did not like the boy's chances should he not hold enough magical energy.

Leon pulled a small piece of parchment from his sleeve, before pressing it into one of the boys many wounds causing it to reopen. He would have objected but Emeritus gave him a sharp look.

Leon was about to perform Blood Magic, he knew that much, Blood Magic was dangerous and extremely restricted, Dillon seriously doubted that they had Ministerial permission to perform this spell.

Leon performed a complex incantation firmly holding his wand on the parchment.

He seemed to be struggling towards the end before he broke contact with the parchment and fell back onto the floor.

"What happened?" Emeritus barked.

"The magic was fighting me sir, It did not want the boys identity to be revealed."

"Will the spell still work?"

"I don't know sir, I think so."

They all turned to stare at the parchment.

Two names appeared on the parchment, where there should have only been one.

**Dion Lucifer Black - Harry James Potter**

Both the Head of the Snape household and the Head Medi-Wizard of Escillion School of Magic stared at the sheet in bewilderment. Leon was lying on the floor in exhaustion.

The head of the Snape household and the medi-wizard stared at the writing in confusion.

"What could cause the spell to do that?" Emeritus asked, showing the parchment to Leon on the floor.

"It means the child's name is in question…I've only seen this happen once before, one of the names I don't know which one is his birth name, the child in question was given one name at birth and later adopted, upon his adoption though blood magic the child was claimed by the adoptive parents as their heir. Magically the child is recognized by both names as he has been gifted with the blood and magic of both."

"So we either have a Potter raised as a Black or a Black raised as a Potter, wonderful."

"Is there anything we can do to clarify his parentage? The birth and the adoptive parents?"

"There is a Lineage Potion, but that takes months to brew and can only be administered if the patient is awake, the potion would identify which of the two sets of parents is most dominate as well as who exactly the parents are."

"Excellent, I will have my son Severus begin brewing the potion immediately."

"Your son, are you sure that is wise?" Dillon quested delicately, hoping not to upset Master Snape too badly.

"I assure you my son is an accomplished brewer, a candidate for a potions mastery in fact, he has already been approached by various prestigious establishments."

"Of course Master Snape, It would be a shame not to put such talent to good use." Dillon gently backed down hoping to calm any ill feelings he had stirred up with his doubt.

* * *


End file.
